


Day Eleven: Wearing Kigurumis (AKA "Have you lost your FUCKING MIND, Bond?")

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [11]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, And can kill your liver, Crack, Fluff, Gen, James Bond: Friendship is Magic, M/M, Making really silly decisions you don't have any business making, This one is crack and fluff, and they buy things for him, hangovers, male/male relationship, meetings, relationship building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hilarity continues as they make it to the meeting, and then Q has a minor meltdown of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Eleven: Wearing Kigurumis (AKA "Have you lost your FUCKING MIND, Bond?")

**Author's Note:**

> I give up. This has turned into pure crack, and I'm not ashamed of anything anymore. This has earned itself its own shiny tag "James Bond: Friendship is Magic" because you could fucking TASTE the crack and fluff in this one.
> 
> I make no excuses anymore.

Gareth Mallory looked down at his watch, then back up at the various directors at the large oak conference table. Hell, even half of the special agents were here as well. Even 005 was here, and he normally had a severe allergy to anything to do with meetings! It was a simple thing to ask, since he allowed them a full day of rest and relaxation...Mallory pressed bitten lips together into a bloodless, frustrated line and sighed. The men and women seated at the table poked at various tablets or scratched notes into legal pads, trying not to look vaguely disgusted at the lateness of some of the star ‘pupils’ of the previous head of the programme. The agents had the good will not to be so bored as to start...doing things, thankfully. He fought to ignore everything that was pointedly not being said and rapped his finger lightly against the dark oak, gathering everyone’s attention.

“We’ll just have to start without them, then.” He sighed again and shuffled his itinerary for the meeting, too thick of a stack of paper for nine a.m...

The door swung open at two after - he’d taken another glance at his watch so that he could start complaining, but really, two minutes past wasn’t that bad; he glanced back up and -“You have got to be kidding me.”

He couldn’t even _deal_ with what just walked through the door.

Most people knew him only as M, or Sir. Or Director. Few people knew him as Mallory, fewer still knew him as Gareth. His wife was the only person who could call him Gar-bear without getting a bullet to their head. Apparently, this lot sought to get him known as a complete fool and idiot for not firing their arses on the spot.

He stared at Miss Moneypenny and 006 as they settled into their respective places in the room, then turned his attention to the Quartermaster and 007. The Double O booted the Accounting director from his seat and took full possession of the leather backed overstuffed monstrosity, then pulled Q into his lap as the younger man tried to sit in his spot. Mallory blinked, then heard the door shut and looked over at his Chief of Staff. Nope. He had to close his eyes in order not to have a screaming fit in front of everyone. He made a point, a very important point, not to even acknowledge the fake cat ears that seemed to be attached to his best personnel’s heads. He definitely acknowledged that they didn’t look resurrected from the dead, which meant that Tanner had babysat them all night, apparently, keeping them from getting too drunk.

_Maybe. Hopefully. Most likely not._

“Well. Now that everyone has arrived.” He scowled at the latecomers. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

007 had the audacity to twirl his hand in a ‘let’s get moving’ gesture, and Mallory tamped down the urge to throw his pen at the insufferable man. Or, you know. Shoot him.

“I will call this meeting to order. First on the agenda is the report from...” He winced inwardly. “...Q Branch. Quartermaster? The floor is yours.”

The young man unfolded himself from Bond’s lap with very little effort, took a long drink out of his travel mug, and walked to the front. Titters and little whispers floated to Mallory’s ears, and he looked down as Q walked past him and hooked his tablet into the projector.

_My God, he’s got a bleeding TAIL._

“If I could draw your attention to the screen, I will discuss the latest specialized projects we currently have on the table for the Double O Programme...”

Mallory was going to kill someone. He turned and glared at his Chief of Staff, who only shrugged and smiled.

Come to think of it, even Bill looks haggard this morning. Oh God.

********  
  
  
  
  


He slammed the door to his office and rounds his desk, refusing to look at any of them until he reached his chair.

Q was back in Bond’s lap, Eve had her arms folded around Alec’s as they both leaned against the bookcase. Bill sat in the other chair, his hands folded on his itinerary for the day. They still had those blasted ears on, and Q was _playing with Bond's tail_. This was too much. Mallory took a drawn-out breath and fixed an equal-opportunity glare at everyone. “What, exactly, do you people think you are doing?”

Bill looked down. “Sir -”

“I don’t even think this is something ‘Sir’ is going to fix. I don’t think this is something ‘Sir’ is going to deal with right now!” He took another breath.

“Gareth.” Bill looked back up, locking eyes with the director. “This is my -”

Q raised his hand. “My fault, sir. It was a bet, and I won. If you wish the frivolities to cease, then it will. We apologise for the inconvenience -”

Eve sighed. “We all got a bit drunk last night -”

“I think we should blame the tequila, don’t you James?” Alec smirked and shrugged.

“I’m blaming the Jagermeister. The tequila had nothing to do with the bet.” James shifted in his seat, settling Q further into the fold of his hips. “Also, Q and I are dating. If you have a problem with that, sir, then I will leave.”

“Hold on, just...everyone stop for a moment!” Gareth held up his hands in defeat. They fell silent, save for Q whispering ‘Dating?’ up at Bond. “Take this from the top for me.”

“We got drunk, made some silly decisions, and here we are, barely alive at ten in the morning, hungover and wearing kitten ears.” Bill smiled. “Though I may still be drunk.”

All eyes shot to Tanner.

“That was a joke.” Gareth’s hand massaged his temples, vainly attempting to head off the migraine starting to take hold. _I’m starting to want a drink myself._ “Tell me that was a joke.”

“Yes, Gareth. It is. I'm sorry.”

“Since we are all on first name basis for once, which is all grand and fantastic,” Alec stepped away from the wall. “I take it you're not that upset with us, considering we aren’t in front of a firing line or in stocks. Or cleaning out our desks.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not making you clean out your desks because half the damned time you don’t even use one!”

“But you aren’t firing us.” James had a flair for the obvious.

“No. You are my best people. I can’t just fire - look. I don’t care that you want to make fools out of yourselves, and I don’t care that you want to drink the pub into the ground -”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure we bought Marcus a house in Milan.”

“Alec, shut up.”

“Yes sir.”

“And I don’t care who you shag. Just...don’t involve me. Don’t ever involve me. Ever. Are we clear on this?”

Everyone nodded their heads. Gareth finally sat down. “Alright.” He sighed, and smiled. “So, what the hell was this bet?”

********  
  
  
  
  


The day went by quickly for Q. He didn’t get to kill his department because there was a legitimate excuse why they didn’t crack the code. It gave his brain something to, something other than do backflips over one bloody word. _Dating. He said that we are dating. He doesn’t date. He. Bond. Breaker of hearts, skirt-chaser, broken man...he doesn’t date people. He wines, dines, and fucks them, and that’s that. We weren’t a thing. I didn’t think we were a thing. Are we a thing? Can we be a thing? I think I’d like us to be a thing. My God, what the fuck am I saying? I’ll be dating James fucking Bond. And he can’t stay exclusive, he fucks contacts on a regular basis...Well, it’s not like I’m any better, taking home multiple partners and getting my brains shagged out half the time. The other half now I’m spending either in his bed, on Alec’s couch, or here. Coding. Coding that I’m supposed to be focusing on. Why can’t I focus on this - oh, shit, don’t want to do that, back up, redo, don’t want to do that, that could make things explode, and you know what M said about explosions outside of actual experimental parameters. But what if he was just kidding, about the dating thing? What if he was just saying that we were dating so that no one would ask questions? But wouldn’t people ask questions? Bond doesn’t date. What if he was saying it because he thinks that is what I want? I don’t want him to stay with me if he doesn’t want to. This wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be a one-off, get a leg over and go back to work with no problems, it wasn’t supposed to be confusing, what the fuck was I thinking, how could I be so stupid? Evan, you are a stupid man, being in love with James Bo - WHOA. Wait. No. Back up. Pause. Review. Love. YOU just said you were...in love. With James. And he. He said that you and he are dating._

“Q.”

_No, this can’t be. This must be wrong. There’s a glitch in the system, there’s a short in the wire, I can’t be in love -_

“Q!”

_But he took me to TOKYO for SUSHI. He could have taken me around the fucking corner, but he took me. ME. On a PLANE. He knew that I have severe anxiety attacks on planes, and he snuck Xanax and diazapam onto the private fucking plane for me, and -_

“God damn it, Q, your computer is on fire.”

The young man flew forward, jerked out of his frenzied musings. His foot knocked a gun case and a stack of papers on the floor, and the keyboard fell out of his lap. “What? Fire? Where? Fire extinguisher, please, someone? Oh.” He realised the computer wasn’t actually on fire. He glared up at - “Oh my fucking God what the _fuck_ are you wearing?”

James and Alec smirked at him. Everyone in the department was frozen, staring blankly at the two huge men. Two huge men who were currently dressed up as a panda and a raccoon.

Something was making a high pitched whining noise...no, wait, that was someone. Q stopped and thought about it. _He_ was making the noise, and it was a precursor to either losing his fucking mind or giggling like he already had. He chose the latter, sliding to the ground and clutching his sides as he gasped and cried with mirth. The agents laughed with him. “Oh, my God, what the hell are you two doing?” He couldn’t get a breath in, and James knelt down to rub Q’s back, whispering soothing words at him. Alec held out another shopping bag - one of these days, Q was going to learn to dread whatever came in a cloth tote.

“We got you one, too.”

“No you didn’t.”

James chuckled. “There’s this little boutique down the road from the Chinese place we went to for our first date. I found these there."

“I can’t believe you. How the hell can you be real?” Q’s brain stopped at ‘first date’ again, the synapses refusing to send that information on to the main part of his brain that would come up with a response to it. “I’m still in bed, sleeping off this fucking hangover.”

“Nope, not a dream. Put it on!” Alec shook the bag at the hacker.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this.” Q reached out and grabbed the soft material in the bag, pulled it out....”A black cat? Really?”

“Fits you perfectly.”

Q blinked up at him, and smirked. “Alright.”

********  
  
  
  
  


Mallory walked into Q Branch, halting when he saw people milling around. He pulled the first person who walked past him back by the shirt sleeve. “Why aren’t you people working?”

The man - Kenneth - pointed towards Q’s desk.

Mallory took one look at the panda, raccoon, and black cat standing there, turned around, and walked right the hell back out. He knew there was a bottle of Scotch in the cabinet. He was going to need it.

He’s never allowing another vacation for these people. Ever.


End file.
